


The Hustlers

by Jadesfire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesfire/pseuds/Jadesfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it's better to just not see anything.  Written for spn_summer gen on LJ, 2009</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hustlers

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [](http://greyias.livejournal.com/profile)[**greyias**](http://greyias.livejournal.com/) for last-minute beta and hand-holding.

  
There was a look that hustlers got when it had been too long since their last successful job. Kind of hungry around the eyes and sort of mean, like they'd pat you on the back and smile at you, except you noticed that it didn't quite make it all the way to their eyes. You spend enough time in a bar - any bar - you knew how to spot them and how to pick up your beer and take it to another table. Because there was nothing friendly in it when they nodded their heads and called you _friend_. Smart folks gave them a wide berth, nights like that.

The guys in the corner booth weren't all that smart, or so Nathan had to reckon. They'd been playing cards, the four of them, for just on two hours now, and got through a fair few beers in that time. Enough that the guy on the outside looked like he might fall off the end of the bench if someone sneezed too hard. They weren't quite under the table yet, though, so Nathan took them another round without too many complaints, although he gave the guy who'd done the ordering as sharp a look as he could manage. He shouldn't have bothered, for all the response he got, just a blank stare and a nod of thanks for the beer.

Collecting the empty bottles, Nathan headed back to the bar, reminding himself that while he could stop folks drinking themselves to death here, he wasn't there to play 'mommy' to four grown men. They'd come in earlier in the evening, all four of them strangers, drifting together the way folks did in a place like this. Next door to the only motel in town was a pretty good place to be, if you didn't mind the kind of people who rolled in off the road. Nathan didn't much care, long as they paid for their beer and didn't break the windows on their way out.

Still, even he didn't like to watch fish getting shot in a barrel, and with the way things were shaping up, he was going to give that table a wide berth until it was all over. The long-haired guy was raking it in right now, but Nathan had seen more lost in a shorter amount of time. That kind of winning never lasted, or at least, only while the beer did. Someone was going to wake up with a hangover and an empty wallet tomorrow, and it wasn't going to be the guy who was losing right now.

Nathan got kind of caught up after that; the bar was busy tonight. He glanced over occasionally to see if he was going to need to intervene, but the most exciting thing happening in the corner booth seemed to be when the guy on the end tried to get to his feet and sent three empty beer bottles rolling across the table.

"Watch it, Sammy!" The guy's companion - shorter hair, grumpier attitude - glared at him and swept the bills back into a neater pile. Although what the point of that was when he'd been so careless about losing them, Nathan hadn't got a clue. And from the weaving path that 'Sammy' trod on his way to the john, he wasn't going to be much use in putting a stop to it. But as long as they kept it coming for the drinks, Nathan wasn't about to interfere. The others - Long Hair and a guy with a buzz cut that screamed ex-military - looked like they could go all night, and if Sammy and friend didn't care about how much they lost, then Nathan wasn't going to either.

He lost track of them again, noticing vaguely when Sammy made his way back to the booth, and that his companion was hunching lower and lower over his cards. Sometimes people managed to drink themselves under the table, but Nathan was pretty sure that the four they'd had, and even the fifth that Buzz Cut seemed to be coming over to fetch, wouldn't do that. All four guys were pretty big, and didn't exactly look like strangers to bars like this. As he handed over the beers, Nathan said,

"You guys look like you're doing okay tonight?"

The reply was accompanied by a look that could have fried bacon. "That alright with you?"

Oh yeah, Nathan had been right the first time. The words didn't have much volume, but the force of them made him raise his hands in automatic surrender. These guys hadn't managed to take a mark in too long, and the desperation was showing.

"Hey, just making conversation."

"Right." Scooping up the beers, Buzz Cut made his way back to the table without a backward glance, and no doubt with his oh-so-friendly smile back on his face. Nathan had seen friendlier sharks.

By the time he was ready to kick the die-hards out and had started lifting chairs onto tables to clean under them, Nathan became aware that the card game was winding down. It looked like Sammy and friend were pretty cleaned out, and they had desperate looks of their own now, mostly directed at the heap of bills in the middle of the table.

"Just one more hand," Friend was saying, almost pleading, although Nathan could have told him that it'd be cheaper to just set fire to everything else he owned and be done with it.

"What you going to bet with?" Long-hair asked, shrugging a little. Because once you had this much, what was a little more?

Sammy actually gasped when Friend dropped a set of car keys onto the table. "Dean, you can't..."

"Shut it, Sammy." 'Dean' didn't even look around, keeping his eyes on Buzz Cut as he went on, "It's a nineteen sixty-seven Chevy Impala. Fully restored, sweet as you like, parked right out front. What do you say?"

For all that there was still some slurring at the edges of his words, there was a harder undertone in them than Nathan had heard all evening, and when he glanced over, he saw that Dean had his two feet planted firmly on the floor under the table. Rock steady where the other guys couldn't see.

Nathan made himself scarce. Whatever was about to happen here, he had the feeling he should come back once it was all over. Because sometimes, when hustlers were _really_ good, you didn't see them coming until they were gone.

He managed to occupy himself for a whole five minutes, noisily dropping empty bottles into crates and piling them by the back door for taking outside. As he moved over to start on the trash, he heard voices raised inside the bar. He pulled the knot tighter. None of his business, he didn't see anything.

The back door had a nasty habit of swinging shut when he wasn't expecting it, so he made sure the wedge was firmly in place before he started carrying the crates into the yard. The dumpster back here always seemed to be full, but the bottles stacked up nicely beside it and they'd get taken away just the same. He took his time, one box of bottles after another, letting whatever was going on in the bar play itself out before he even thought about venturing back inside.

Nathan had spent most of the last ten years trying to stay out of trouble. He sometimes wished Trouble would return the favor. Just as he was starting to bring the trash out, he heard voices by the back door, a little loud maybe, but not sounding like anyone's head was about be ripped off or anything like that. After a moment's hesitation, Nathan ducked back into the store room, not quite out of sight, just far enough back that he could make a quick exit if he needed to.

As expected, Dean and Sammy emerged from the shadows, all signs of their drunken stupor gone, as though they'd just got out of the car rather than spent the evening cheating at cards. They were laughing about something, although Nathan couldn't make out the words, and he was just about to step out of his hiding place when there was a louder shout from the back of the bar.

"Hey!"

It was about to hit the fan, that was for sure, and Nathan had no intention of getting caught in the spray. Staying where he was, he leaned forward just enough to get a look at the other guys coming down the narrow alley. They looked bigger in the confined space, and a whole lot nastier.

"You've got our money," Long-hair said, and Nathan heard someone snort with laughter.

"Er, no." That was Dean. "We've got _our_ money, that you tried to cheat us out of, plus a little something for the inconvenience of having to teach you guys a lesson."

"Funny." Even in the dim light from the street lamps, Nathan could see Buzz Cut clench his hands into fists. "I think we've got a lesson for you, now."

Nathan backed away quickly, not daring to shut the store room door and draw their attention his way, but not wanting to be a witness to this either. He'd spent all evening trying not to know things, and being a spectator right now would undo all his hard work. The problem was that being out of their sight meant that they were out of his, so he only had the sounds to go by. Mostly, he could hear soft grunts and the slap of flesh on flesh, but he nearly jumped out of his skin when the stack of bottle crates came crashing to the ground, and he winced at the the thought of how much broken glass he was going to have to sweep up.

There was a long, quiet minute after that, where Nathan was fairly sure he could hear the men in the alley breathing, hard and harsh and with a whistling edge that suggested at least one rib was busted. He wouldn't have been surprised if more than that was broken, but from the store room, all he could see was the patch of ground directly outside the back door. He was just craning his neck to try to get a better look when something moved across his line of sight, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

The slight movement must have given him away, because one of the dark shapes stopped and peered into the store room.

"Hello?"

Cursing, Nathan stepped out of his hiding place behind a cupboard, not surprised that it was Sammy who'd spotted him, but more than a little surprised at how he looked. Apart from a little reddening on his knuckled, the guy didn't look like he'd been in a back-alley fight ever, let alone in the last five minutes. Combined with the slightly embarrassed smile, Nathan felt more like he was calling someone on a fake ID than facing someone who'd just taken on a couple of heavy weights. And won.

The bizarreness of the situation was doubled when someone yelled from outside, and Sammy jumped - actually jumped - about three inches off the ground.

"Sammy! You coming?"

"Yeah," Sammy called back, giving Nathan what was probably supposed to be an apologetic smile. "Sorry about the bottles."

Nathan shrugged. "Had worse."

"Yeah." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Sammy hesitated for a minute. "Should we- I mean. Do we owe you-"

"Sammy!"

"Nah, it's cool," Nathan said, wondering what would have happened if he'd actually asked the guy to pay him. This whole thing was getting more surreal by the second.

It must have been the right answer, because Sammy's face broke into a genuine grin, and he started to back out of the store room, nodding. "Cool. That's cool. Great. Thanks."

"See ya." Because he couldn't help himself, and because this whole situation was too ridiculous for him to feel silly, Nathan actually lifted a hand to wave, dropping it quickly when he realised what he was doing. Shaking his head, he wandered over to the doorway, watching the two men walk off into the night. From the other end of the alley, he could hear the beginnings of some quiet groans and the sound of someone trying to get out from a pile of broken bottles and crates. Carefully, he pulled the wedge out from under the door and stepped back inside, shutting it firmly behind him.

None of his business. He didn't see anything. Because there was a look barmen got when they'd been in the job too long, sort of world-weary and tired around the eyes. There wasn't much Nathan hadn't seen, but it took more than just skill for the kind of hustle those guys had pulled, and if he was very, very lucky, he'd never see it again.

Smiling a little to himself, Nathan decided that he'd clean up the corner booth in the morning, flicked off the lights, and locked the front door behind him.


End file.
